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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28435419">Sunlight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantSunset/pseuds/VerdantSunset'>VerdantSunset</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dark Souls, Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Action/Adventure, Anger Management, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, Eventual Romance, Gay, Gay Male Character, M/M, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 20:33:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,260</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28435419</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerdantSunset/pseuds/VerdantSunset</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For all his life Duncan had been branded as a pickpocket, a thief, and a murderer. He had accepted the names society had given to him. And when he failed to die he knew he was branded as an undead. A fate worse than death. He would be thrown away to rot in the undead asylum until he went hollow. He would escape of course, and in time he would change. All with the help of a certain warrior of sunlight.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Chosen Undead &amp; Solaire of Astora</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Duncan was first thrown in this cell his biggest fear was that he’d go hollow. But as he turns his mother’s ring over and over again in his hand, trying in vain to stave off boredom, he wishes he would go hollow already. He can only chuckle to himself when he thinks of the circumstances behind his imprisonment. He was thrown in here for being undead just like everyone else. But, one has to admit, a thief being hanged for his crimes only to wake up hours later still dangling from the noose, it’d make a fine story if it wasn’t so increasingly common. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s lost count of the days since his imprisonment. He used to count them, etching a line in the wall for each sunrise, it was easy enough to track with the open window above his head. But after a while the days simply stopped passing. That is to say, time itself stopped working. The sun now hangs motionless in the sky eternally. For Duncan, he can only assume the world is ending. Thinking on it, he recalls the words of an old firekeeper: ‘The age of fire is fading, and soon darkness will be upon us all,’ she said to him and all the other children of the burg. He used to think it was just some story spun by a woman with nothing else to do but frighten a pack of children, but now. Things are different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sounds of footsteps on the roof above him snaps Duncan out of his thoughts. Looking up through the window he sees a knight who is kneeling next to the opening to look down into the cell. The knight wordlessly reaches behind him and to Duncan’s surprise he drags a corpse through the window and with a crash it lands on the floor of his cell. Duncan jumps back as the corpse hits the ground and looks up at the knight, silently asking for some explanation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knight obliges, saying “The key to your cell is on that body.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan responds, “You could have just thrown the fucking key then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knight shrugs before standing up and walking out of view. As soon as he leaves, Duncan searches the body. There aren’t many places on the ragged corpse to hide a key and before long Duncan has the rusted, old, piece of scrap metal he was looking for. With some effort he turns it in the lock of his cell door and he slides it open, the hinges of the door scrape together clearly in desperate need of grease. For the first time in what must have been months, he is out of his cell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It just so happens that the Undead Asylum is guarded by a giant demon, much to Duncan’s annoyance. When he first tried to leave the demon had smashed him into the brickwork making Duncan’s second death an extremely violent and unpleasant one. With a tad more caution he walks once more into the large chamber marking the entrance to the asylum. The demon is waiting for him and as he desperately dodges under the demon’s giant hammer he notices a small door leading deeper into the asylum. With no other option he runs through the door only for it to slam shut behind him. Duncan stops to catch his breath, his lungs burning from the exertion. “That thing is about as fat as it is angry.” He says to no one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes his way further into the asylum finding a discarded dagger and shield. Oddly enough, it’s the kind of equipment he would have used before being imprisoned here. Fuck it, he thinks to himself. The world is ending anyways, there’s no point in starting to question things. From there, the hollows were almost disappointingly easy to dispatch. As if the weak and diminished state of the hollows wasn’t enough, they barely even defend themselves. Duncan had always had a, perhaps detrimental, pride in his skill with a blade, but using that skill against a weak opponent brings none of the satisfaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sheathing his knife, Duncan makes it to the top of a flight of stairs where he sees the knight from before, seemingly trapped in an empty cell. Sunlight shines upon his armor as if he fell in from the ceiling. He’s looking far worse than when Duncan last saw him. His breastplate has been sickeningly caved in, blood flows between the chinks in his armor painting his tabard red and pooling between the cobblestones. He lies crumpled and dying in the cell. Duncan quickly searches for some means of opening the cell until he finds it, a heavy metal boulder at the top of a flight of stairs. It was clearly put there as a trap, what with the undead guard behind it, but when it rolls down it’ll break down the wall into the knight’s cell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan takes a few steps up the stairs then another and another. Frustratingly, the hollow at the top is failing to notice him. With a scowl, Duncan puts two fingers to his lips and lets out a loud whistle, “I’m right here!” he yells at the rousing hollow, “Roll the damn boulder already!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hollow didn’t need any convincing, as it pushes its emaciated frame against the boulder Duncan dodges out of the way letting it roll harmless past him only to crash through the wall behind him. The hollow, seeing Duncan still standing, shambles towards him. Duncan kills the hollow without a second thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Duncan steps through the breach the knight looks up, weakly coughing. “It’s good to see you’re not hollow.” He says, chuckling even with the wounds. “I’m afraid it’s over for me, I’ll go hollow soon enough.” He coughs, and though his helmet hides his face, Duncan can tell from the sound that he’s coughing up blood. “You and I, we’re both undead. I don’t want to be forgotten, so would you please hear me out.” He sounds desperate, despite the fact that his voice is barely above a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan grunts, “Alright, I owe you that much for getting me out of that cell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even without seeing it, Duncan can tell he’s smiling. “Thank you… My name is Oscar of Astora, I come from a family of knights.” He stops to cough again, “There is an old saying in my family. ‘Thou who art Undead, art chosen. In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know.’ So when I became undead I decided to travel here, to the asylum with the hope that I’d discover my fate.” He sighs, “In the end I suppose I did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment of silence passes between the two, “You talk about that prophecy like you seriously believe it.” Duncan says, with some sarcasm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar chuckles, “Would you think me a fool if I did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan gives a wry grin, “I’m not gonna mock a man to his face while he’s speaking his last words to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh, very well,” Oscar replies. “Before you go take this.” With a shaking hand he reaches into a pouch at his belt before handing Duncan an empty, bluish, dark flask and another rusted key. “Estus flask, an old undead favorite. That one’s empty but you can fill it at a bonfire. And that key will get you out of the asylum.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan studies the flask with some skepticism, “This marks the second time you’ve helped me,” He says, thinking the flask is useless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bid you good luck,” Oscar says, “You should go, I would hate to harm you after death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan nods before standing and walking back towards the breach. He gives one last look at the dying knight before stepping back into the asylum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan climbs the stairs that the boulder had rolled down before unlocking the rusted iron door at the landing. Beyond it is the roof of the asylum. Duncan steps out and for a moment appreciates the open air. The moment is somewhat ruined by the hollow shambling towards him with a knife. With a disgruntled sigh, he grabs the wrist of the hollow before simultaneously pulling and twisting the arm, knocking the hollow of his feet. He just as swiftly stabs the hollow between the ribs and it is still. “Alright, the moments over.” He says, preparing himself for the rest of the hollows on the roof.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are unfortunately like the rest, pathetically weak and easy to dispatch. Duncan pushes the thought out of mind that he could just as easily become one of these hollows. He has enough to worry about without getting existential. In front of him lies an archway shrouded in a thick fog. It looks like a solid wall made out of mist, but Duncan has a feeling he could move through it if he so desired. He places a hand against the fog and pushes himself through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His heart jumps into his throat when he realizes he’s standing at the edge of a platform and below him is the demon. It’s staring up at him with its blood red eyes irritated that its prey is out of reach. Duncan pushes against the fog wall but it has become solid behind him, refusing to budge. “Oh for fucks sake!” He exclaims, drawing his dagger. Looking down, the seed of an idea plants itself in his mind. Knowing the shield will be useless to him Duncan does the only thing he can think to do. He grabs the edge of the round shield with one hand before tossing it at the demon’s head like an oversized discus. It makes a satisfying clang against the thing’s skull, dazing the creature. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This better fucking work,” Duncan says to himself, grasping his dagger in both hands. He backs against the fog wall before sprinting forward and jumping off the ledge. He descends upon the unaware demon, plunging his dagger deep into its skull, the weight and momentum of his body pulls the dagger through the demon, leaving a large cut exposing the gory insides of the foul creature. Duncan falls to the stone floor, drenched in the creature’s blood. He reflexively stiffens, expecting a counterattack but the demon falls backwards having breathed its last. In shock, Duncan sits where he landed, his clothes now soaked in blood. After he catches his breath he pushes himself to his feet, sheathing his dagger and recovering his now dented shield. With bloodstained hands he pushes open the giant stone doors of the asylum, ready to face the end of the world. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Crestfallen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Duncan travels to Firelink Shrine and begins his journey in Lordran.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There might be a gap in the writing style compared to the last chapter, that has to do with the fact that some time has past since the writing of the first chapter and this one. Sorry if it comes across as jarring, the rest of the fic will be more consistent. Otherwise, thanks for reading.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Duncan felt his stomach drop as he was lifted helplessly into the air, and he began to ponder why Oscar had failed to mention the giant raven waiting just outside the asylum. He could only assume it wasn’t going to eat and or drop him, as it seemed to be carrying him far away from its nest. But that didn’t exactly make him feel any better about sailing through the air hundreds of feet above the ground. The wind alone was chilling at this speed and Duncan shivered uncontrollably in the raven’s grasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, he felt his center of gravity shift as the raven made a steep descent downward. Duncan yelped as he was suddenly and without warning dropped, the ground rapidly rising up to meet him. Duncan braced his legs and he rolled as he hit the ground, landing without any injury. He looked up to see that the raven had perched itself on top of a dilapidated building. “Yeah, fuck you, you overgrown chicken.” He shouted, though the raven seemed unperturbed by the comment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan heard a low cackle to his left and he instinctively reached for his knife. He turned ready to cut down whatever made that cackle, in front of him he saw a man and Chainmail with dark black hair cut short. He was hunched over and sitting on a forgotten pile of rubble, “ oh,” He said as if he had just noticed a Duncan standing there, “A new arrival, I assume you just dropped in from the Asylum.” he cackled at his own pun in a laugh that grated at Duncan’s ears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who might you be?“ He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me? I’m another visitor like yourself,” He laughed, “But I’m simply crestfallen, I’ve given up and now I simply spend my days watching as others more foolish than I continue on. Firelink Shrine attracts fools like manure attracts flies, but most of them just come here for the bonfire.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan looked over his shoulder to notice the small fire, its embers were almost dead, but they still smoldered underneath the ash. The man continued, “Yes, most of them come here with some noble goal in mind, not that any of them have succeeded. Hah, there was even a man who came by who thought he could become the sun. I just happen to find it to be entertaining.” He smiled condescendingly at Duncan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan scoffed, “Fuck off.”  as he walked off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man called after him with a last bit of advice. “If you’re going to go anywhere I’d recommend the Undead Burg, it’s just up those stairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” Duncan yelled over his shoulder, with dripping sarcasm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and one last thing,” The man yelled after him, “You’ll be wanting to look for a bell!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan grumbled to himself as he made his way through the burg, the dank and cramped town at the base of an even greater city’s walls. “Of course that prick would fail to mention a drake.” He mumbled under his breath. “Nobody here ever mentions the important details.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luckily the drake had ignored him, instead choosing to soar above the burg onto a nearby bridge. After the drake’s appearance, the denizens of the burg almost seemed friendly by comparison. Duncan dispatched them with an almost systematic grace. His dagger cut through them like a saw, severing tendons, slitting throats, and stabbing through the gaps that armor left.  In his life he had been used to street fights, skirmishes between thieves, or members of rival gangs. In those days the danger was the opponents speed and the difficulty that came with tracking and countering their movements. The hollows proved only to be slow husks, shadows of their former humanity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan tried not to think about them, how their fate could be his own. He thought back on asylum, he had been locked away for so long. Could he not already be hollowing... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan grunted in frustration, as he started to think about it. He hated the feeling it gave him, of helplessness. It had always been a point of annoyance with Duncan, the idea that his fate wasn’t his own. It had been a familiar feeling in his life before the curse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who knows,” He said to himself as he laid eyes on a bonfire. “This curse might be the best thing to ever happen to me.” He knelt near the low flame and it suddenly kicked up a few sparks, growing warmer, as if reacting to his presence. “From now on, I will determine my own destiny.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he made his way further into the burg, Duncan met more and more resistance. The hollows almost got the best of him when he tried to go up a flight of stairs only for one of them to roll a flaming barrel down from the top of it. He dodged out of the way in time, but he nearly fell to his death in the process. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had made the mistake afterwards of descending further into the burg only to find a towering knight waiting for him. It was oppressively big, with armor blackened by fire and inconceivably heavy. Needless to say, after it had swung it’s two-handed greatsword down upon the former thief’s unarmored head, Duncan experienced his first death after escaping the asylum. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He woke near the bonfire, his body decayed. He felt a dull pain in his scalp, like a razor had cut far too close. Looking down at his hands, he could see tattered, dry skin; that of a corpse, all too like the hollows of the burg. Despite everything, Duncan couldn’t help but chuckle to himself. After all, it had been a fairly stupid way to die. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed himself up from his sitting position to get closer to the fire. There, he reached into his pocket before outstretching it over the fire, before dropping a small, black sprite into the flames: humanity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His body restored, Duncan again ventured into the burg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan stepped through the fog gate and onto the walls of the undead burg. The first thing he noticed as he walked along the high wall was the view, the second thing was the crossbow bolts. The first missed, whizzing past his ear like an all too aggressive bug, the second landing in his back, its barbed tip digging painfully below his shoulder blade. Duncan cried out, “Fuck!” And jumped out of the way to avoid any more shots. They had come from behind him, from the top of the tower he had just stepped out of. Two hollows with crossbows stood near the ladder leading up to the tower. They were slow in loading their next shots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a speed fueled by anger and pain, Duncan pushed himself up the ladder, but before he was at the top, the first hollow had trained its crossbow on him. In a flash, Duncan’s knife moved into and out of his hands in an overhand arc towards the hollow. His throw struck true as his knife embedded itself in the hollow. Wincing from the pain in his shoulder, Duncan pulled himself over the last rung and he rushed towards the second hollow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With an amount of recklessness that can only come from the undead, Duncan sprinted towards the hollow as it loosed its second shot. The bolt missed Duncan by less than an inch, flying off the tower into the burg below. Without his weapon, Duncan slammed into the unprepared hollow with his shoulder. The walking corpse tumbled backwards, the momentum carrying his body over the tower’s crenelations and off the other side of the wall, into the land far below the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan took a moment to watch as the hollow bounced off the rocks below, falling ever downward. It was a little sick, but also a little funny. Duncan groaned as the pain of the bolt in his back began to set it. Not that he’d be able to do much about it, from the pain alone he could tell that the arrow was barbed. A barbed head meant a much nastier process of removal, it meant either cutting through the flesh around the entry wound, or pushing the arrow through the body until it came out the other side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Duncan pulled out the estus flask Oscar gave him and took a swig, to his surprise, it took away some of the pain. He bent down to retrieve his knife, and reached behind his back. He couldn’t remove the arrow, but he could at least cut down the shaft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that done, he stood up and looked back at the wall. All he had left to do was to go across the wall and into that other tower. It should be easy enough, he thought to himself. But that was before he noticed the horned demon standing on top of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Duncan just can't catch a break. Well... he just might in the next chapter, when he meets our favorite warrior of sunlight. </p><p>\[T]/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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